


As Long and Sharp As Yours

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerwin puts the Win in Aerwin, F/M, I never know whether to trigger warn Aerys or not idek, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rains of Castamere, Shameless Self-Indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aerys is surprised to find that he is aroused upon hearing about the obliteration of houses Reyne and Tarbeck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long and Sharp As Yours

**Author's Note:**

> It is very difficult to know what warnings to put on fic about younger!Aerys. He is still Crown Prince in this, so he's not yet the Crowned Beast he turns into. His thoughts about Rhaella are not the nicest, but the "you are my wife, so your body is mine to claim when I choose" attitude is unfortunately quite common in Westeros, so I wouldn't categorize his thoughts as outside of the norm. However, keep this in mind if you are someone who finds reading about these things unpleasant.
> 
> You might find that Aerys's fantasy about the buttsex is a little...unrealistic. Don't add me to your list of badfic writers just yet! It is intended to be that way :)

Rhaella was not herself tonight.  Most nights after she performed her duties in that silent, still way she had that made her seem like half a corpse (which displeased Aerys greatly; who wanted to spend their nights fucking a corpse?  Not him, that was for certain) she turned on her side and said not another word.  Left facing the insult of her pale shoulders and knobbly backbone, Aerys would turn away from her as well and fall into an uneasy sleep cursing a man who’d burned to death and could no longer hear.

However, tonight Rhaella rolled over to face him, pushing down the bedclothes in the sticky heat of the room and leaning in close.  Aerys raised his eyebrows.

“So, did Father come in to tell you?”

“To tell me what?”

“Oh!  Maybe he didn’t want to bother you if you were feeling poorly.”  Rhaella looked almost excited.  “You should have been at dinner.  We heard the most marvelous story about Tywin Lannister.”

“Tywin?”  Aerys had met him once or twice, long ago, but it was easier to remember his father Tytos, and how freely the wine had flowed at his table.  He’d driven House Lannister nearly to ruin.  It seemed quite unfair, really, to call the _Targaryens_ mad when they had done no wrong for quite some time now, unlike some other Houses.  “What’s he done now?

“He’s gotten revenge,” Rhaella said.  “I know you like those old stories about knights and revenge.”

“By doing what exactly?  Must you drag the thing out?”

Rhaella’s face fell. Aerys didn’t want to risk her turning her back on him, curling up into the sheets, and keeping her mouth firmly shut, not when there was a story about _revenge_ to be told.  He took her slender hand in his and squeezed.  “Forgive me, sweet sister.  Please continue.”

Rhaella left her hand there.  “He led the slaughter of two entire houses in the Westerlands.”

“Which ones?”

“Reyne and Tarbeck, I think?  Yes, definitely those two.  They tried to rebel because they thought his father so weak.”

“So he had the Lannister army slaughter the lords?  Hmmm.  I’m sure there are other stories like that in the maesters’ books.”

“No, _everyone_.  Every last person in those Houses is gone.”  Rhaella squeezed his hand.  Aerys had never known her to be so bloodthirsty.  Maybe this thing Tywin Lannister had done really was that extraordinary.  “Isn’t that just—”

“But he and I are of an age, I thought,” Aerys said, “and I couldn’t—”  Aerys had never been one for the practice yards.  Any time the master-at-arms would rush at him with a sword, Aerys would feel—He shook his head to ward off the memory.  It was humiliating.

“Everyone’s gone, the men, the women, even the babes, I think.  And it was all Tywin who gave the command.”

Aerys gently pushed her long hair back behind her ear.  Her tits had gotten bigger since she’d birthed Rhaegar, and they were nice to look upon.  “You are certain Tytos played no part?”

She kept on.  “Father thinks he stayed hidden in Casterly Rock, so it was all Tywin’s doing.”  She pressed her lips to his ear, cupped her hands around it, and whispered, “When you are king, you should keep him close.  Make him your friend.”

Aerys was not certain of how he felt about Rhaella giving him counsel, but he had other matters on his mind.  It was then that he realized his cock was growing hard again, so soon after that proper fucking he’d given to his corpse of a wife, and it had nothing to do with the feel of her lips on his ear or the (accidental, he was certain) brush of her tits against his arm.  Aerys had been both blessed and cursed with a fevered imagination, the maesters had always said, and he could picture it all: the way Tywin must have smelled, of sweat and horses and maybe of blood; the way he’d shaken out his curls of Lannister gold after removing his helm; the toothy grin of satisfaction spreading across his face.  Tywin was unwed, as far as Aerys knew; what had he done after, with all that righteous satisfaction?  Had he gone to seek out Lannisport's finest whores?  Had he fucked them into the sheets with blood on his mind, til they screamed and wept but still begged _m’lord_ for more? He pulled the sheets up around his waist.

“Are you feeling unwell again?”  Rhaella laid the back of her hand against his forehead.  “You do feel a little warm, even for having dragon’s blood.”  She smiled a little.  “I could put on my dressing-gown and fetch Pycelle if you would like.”

“No, no.”  Oh, Aerys supposed he could roll Rhaella onto her back and make her perform her _duties_ again.  Rhaegar’s fine white hair still smelled almost smoky from his birth when Father had put his hand on Aerys’s shoulder and whispered _My son, I am as proud as you are, please do not doubt it, but you really must…_ He had grimaced, then.  _Rhaella must bring a daughter into this world too, or else you’ll have to hunt for a suitable heir when Rhaegar is of age, and that is never a pleasant thing._ Going at it a second time would give him another chance to make an heir and put this whole business to rest.  But how to explain his current arousal?  To be in such a state after hearing stories of bloody revenge, exacted by another man, well, it wasn’t quite princely.  People would whisper of Targaryen madness.

Anyway, there was always the chance that Rhaella would be pretending he was Tywin, fresh off the battlefield, and Aerys would not let himself be humiliated in that way.  He was Crown Prince, more majestic than some lordling from the Westerlands, even if the lordling had just—

“I’ll go myself.”  He kissed Rhaella on the cheek and patted her belly.  “No need to go running around after I’ve just put our daughter in there, hmmm?”  He took a few strands of Rhaella’s long hair in his fist and gave it a little tug for good measure.  “Dream of her tonight.”  _And not Tywin Lannister_.

Aerys’s arousal was so heightened he near spilled his seed while still in the bedchamber from the feel of his red silk robe as it slid down over his body.  He freed some of his hair from underneath the collar, stuck as it was with the sweat that had broken out all over his body, and darted out into the hallway.

“My prince?”  The young knight Selmy was on guard outside the door that night.  At times like this Aerys loathed being Crown Prince.  It meant people were everywhere, poking into your affairs, _watching_ you.  Aerys did not enjoy the feeling of being watched.  “Is aught amiss?  It is quite late.  You really ought to be in bed.”

“I believe it was the Kingsguard you were recently appointed to, _ser_ ,” Aerys said, hoping to rain down upon the fresh-faced boy knight all the fury of Tywin Lannister.  “Not to being my lady mother.”

“Yes, my prince.”  Selmy’s face showed nothing.  “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.  Is all well with the princess?”

“I’m just off to the privy in my old bedchamber,” Aerys said, his face burning hot though not nearly as hot as the ache building in his cock.  It was getting harder and harder to pay attention to the knight in front of him.  Half his mind was already at Casterly Rock, following the Lannister armies as they made their way to battle.  Tywin led the charge, his helm glinting in the gentle sunlight of the Westerlands.  His muscles must already be tensing, readying themselves for battle underneath his armor.  Aerys squinted to keep the vision at bay, but it kept coming.  “You don’t need to worry about me, Selmy.  I’m more than capable of handling my own affairs.”

He whirled on his heel and headed for privacy, unable to worry about how he must look.  His old bedchamber, now neglected in favor of sharing a bed with Rhaella for the ease of heir-making, was blessedly empty.  He slammed the door, collapsed onto the familiar crimson sheets with the dragon embroidery, and closed his eyes.  With his hand wrapping tight around his cock, which felt hot to the touch, he watched the story unfold in front of him.

Tywin was in battle, leading a storm of crimson and gold through Castamere.  Blood flowed like Tytos’s wine.  Swords rang and dishes clattered to the floor in a more pleasing harmony than that of any harp-song.  The screams ringing through the hall left Tywin unmoved, though, and as much as Aerys would have loved to linger in a corner with his eyes closed and listen to the destruction, he followed Tywin as Tywin moved purposefully to slit the Red Lion’s throat himself.  The blood was the most vivid, pulsing red Aerys had ever seen; it bubbled from him and splattered Tywin’s armor like ocean spray against a boat.

“How did it feel, slitting the Red Lion’s throat?”  The scene had changed.  Now Aerys was together with Tywin in some imagined Casterly Rock bedchamber.  A great fire was lit and Tywin’s flesh glowed bright like the gold underneath his house.  He stood in just his breeches, his muscles knotted and tight from the battlefield.  Aerys stood behind him, running his teeth up Tywin’s bare back in a way that would make Rhaella cry out so irritatingly it wouldn’t be worth the pleasure.  But Tywin was a warrior.  He understood the gains that came from withstanding pain.  And he tasted of sweat, and of steel and leather, and maybe of blood.

“Tywin.  Tell me.  How did it feel?”

“Powerful, Aerys.  It felt powerful.”

“You are to call me _Your Grace_.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Forgive me, Your Grace.”  Tywin let out a low moan as Aerys slipped his hand under his breeches.  His cock felt strong and thick, perfectly aroused.  On the bed in King’s Landing, Aerys tugged at his own, his legs spread so wide of their own accord that one dangled off the bed.  “Tywin,” he whispered, or had he just thought it?

“Tywin.  What a good, proud lion you are for me, Tywin.”  Tywin moaned again, his hips pushing back against Aerys’s.  “A rebellion against a lord is really a rebellion against the whole kingdom, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Tywin said, his voice faint.  “They had no respect for me…or my father…or _you,_ Your Grace, or your father…”

“Then let us think of their blood as our celebratory drink.  Better than wine, is it not?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Much better.”

Aerys worked the laces of Tywin’s breeches apart and slid them down.  “And let us think of me as your prize.”

“I am not worthy of such a prize, Your Grace,” Tywin said.  Aerys gave him a shove forward so that he was bent over the oaken footboard of the bed.

“Few are,” Aerys agreed, “but you are one of the few.”

Sprawled on the bed with his hips and hand working together to bring him closer to pleasure, Aerys realized dimly that he had never once given thought to fucking another man.  (Not since that one day moons and moons ago when he had been bored during his lessons and had lingered too long over the drawing of Daeron the Young Dragon, _pretty_ Young Dragon that he was. But Rhaella had noticed and teased him, and he’d quickly turned the page.)  You had to go up the arse, that much Aerys knew, but what else was needed was unclear.  Would he need to wet his cock first somehow?  Well, it mattered not; back at Casterly Rock, Tywin waited for him, bent over with his legs spread slightly.  Aerys admired the golden hairs on his thighs, the way they grew sparse and neat further down but thickened as they crept towards his cock.  He stroked the insides of those thighs and felt how the hard muscle quivered.  For him, for him…

“You have conquered so much,” he said softly, brushing the tip of his cock against Tywin’s entrance.  “And now it is your turn to be conquered.  I can’t have you getting too proud, Tywin.  Pride is in your blood, of course, you are a Lannister, but it must be tempered.”

“Of course, Your Grace, just so, please—” 

Aerys pushed inside Tywin and Tywin yelped and clawed the sheets.  “ _My Lord!”_ he was crying out as he clenched tight and hot around Aerys like a bedding done right.  Aerys grasped at his golden curls and began to thrust, but the hot splatter of seed on his bare chest brought him back to the quiet, musty bedchamber in King’s Landing. 

 _Tywin, Tywin_ , he wanted to cry out, but the golden lion and the warm room had vanished, his pleasure similarly gone from him even as he continued to squirt into the hand that no young lion would be waiting to help clean.  Strange, how the body could do one thing and the mind another—he was shuddering terribly with the pleasure of the fantasy, his toes were even curled—but it was spoiled, it was _ruined_ , for none of it had been real.

He remembered what Rhaella had said to him as he wiped his hand, his chest, his belly, and his spent cock clean with the dragon sheets.  _Keep him close, make him your friend_ , she had said.  And why couldn’t he do that?  He was Crown Prince, an important position in its own right, and he was to be King someday.  Tywin would surely want to befriend someone of that status.  It would be in his best interest.

He walked on weak legs back to Selmy, making sure not to look at him (though out of the corner of his eye, it seemed as though Selmy was also trying his best not to stare at his Prince) and entered the quiet larger bedchamber.  It still seemed to smell of lingering sweat and seed.  Or was that him?  Or had Rhaella lain awake and pleasured herself to thoughts of Tywin?  It was suddenly all too much for Aerys to consider.

Rhaella was asleep on her side, her arms folded over her belly.  Sweet girl, Aerys thought with a fondness brought on by the loneliness he felt now that his Tywin was gone.  She had done as she was told and was dreaming of their daughter, no doubt.  This left Aerys free to dream of Tywin, which he intended to do tonight, and all the nights that followed til he could befriend the man and bring him to King’s Landing.  Then Aerys would no longer have to dream, for his dreams would become real, as well a Prince’s dreams should be.

 


End file.
